


Bow Ties and Ball Gowns and Preludes to a Snowball Fight

by xbedhead



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Canon Compliant, Friendship, Gen, banter!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-18
Updated: 2013-08-18
Packaged: 2017-12-23 23:07:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/932157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xbedhead/pseuds/xbedhead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Missing scene from "Inauguration Day, Pt. 2" where Josh tries to convince Donna to come to the festivities.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bow Ties and Ball Gowns and Preludes to a Snowball Fight

**Author's Note:**

> Another missing scene fic - I love these because I don't have to work too hard to build up a universe around them. I wrote this fairly quickly because their banter just pours out and it's unbeta'd so any con-crit is welcome.

He was trying to rip his mangled bow tie from his collar when he heard her pick up. “Where are you?” he demanded, fingers working frantically over the knots he’d created.

“My apartment.”

“It’s Inauguration Day, how can you be at your apartment?” The tie wasn’t budging and he was starting to feel a little claustrophobic. “There’s-there’s _balls_ and dancing, fondue. Oh, and _cheese trays_ – I know you love a good cheese tray.”

“You know I’m a cheese _snob_.”

“What about your dress?” he countered absently, still focusing on the strip of cloth that was threatening to strangle him. “That-that…blue dress you went on and on about. The one with the shoulder…things.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Are you _kidding_ me?” he demanded, stopping all motion as he forgot the limited oxygen supply to his brain.

She’d debated on that dress for the last two weeks. He’d had to look through no less than four garment magazines that made the Old Testament look like Cliff’s Notes and had only _just_ gotten out of an actual shopping trip because there was a genocide in progress and Leo had needed him.

“Are _you_ kidding me?” 

He gave up on untying the knot and wrestled it over his head – which caused the handset to fall from where he’d wedged it between his shoulder and ear. 

He heard her slightly panicked voice from the receiver on the floor, “Josh, what’s going on?”

He had to crawl under his desk to reach the handset. “Nothing,” he grunted, hoping she heard him.

“What are you doing?”

“ _Nothing_ ,” he huffed as he pressed the ‘speaker’ button on his phone and replaced the receiver in its cradle. “Everything’s fine.”

There was a beat, then his office was filled with her voice. “Check my top drawer.”

“For what?” he asked, only half paying attention. From his knees, he was just above eye level from where his bow tie lay haphazardly on his mail tray. He sighed. He’d made an irreversible mess of it. 

“Just look,” she ordered dryly. 

“Ya know, in the spirit of the evening, I wasn’t even gonna bring it up,” he continued as he pushed himself to his feet. He shouted over his shoulder while making his way into the bullpen, “You should be here, enjoying yourself tonight.”

Her voice was faint, but he heard a hopeful, “Really?”

He opened her top middle drawer and there – next to her box of paperclips and purple sparkly pen she used on special occasions – was a clip-on bow tie. He smiled.

“I thought you’d be – ”

“Look,” he started, cutting her off as he strode back into his office, tie in hand, “I don’t wanna get into that – ”

“Good, because – ”

“You know what gets me?” he snapped, suddenly realizing that he _did_ want to get into it now that he didn’t have a tie to distract him. “You know what _really_ gets me, Donna?” 

He tossed the scrap of material on his desk and fell into his chair, swinging to a stop where he could lean over the phone. “What gets me, is that after four years – four _years_ – you still haven’t figured out that speaking to anyone with a notebook is bad for business, especially where you’re concerned.”

“They didn’t have a notebook.”

He squeezed his temples with the heels of his palms and shook his head, befuddlement coming through loud and clear when he said, “This wasn’t a researcher from _Twenty One_ magazine.”

“I know that.”

“It’s not like they were asking about lip gloss or your Vera Wang dress.” 

He pushed himself back from his desk and rubbed furiously at his burning eyes. He was tired – he was tired and they were supposed to be celebrating and instead, the Commander in Chief was going to soon learn that one of his most trusted aides had mouthed off against his priorities to a reporter because she was pissed her boyfriend had been fired.

“It’s not Vera Wang.”

“What?”

“It’s not Vera Wang – it’s Dolce and Gabanna.”

He barely heard her and instantly regretted jumping on her like he had. If anyone was upset over this, Donna was and he knew that. His voice softened and he came back to the desk. “And you’re wasting it while sitting at home.”

“It’s not going to waste.”

She was a little too resolute when she said that. Intrigued, he propped his chin in his hand, words slightly muffled when he asked, “What do you mean?” 

“It’s not going to waste, I’m wearing it right now.”

“Then get _down_ here,” he nearly shouted, popping back up in his seat. “You’re not sitting at home, watching everything on TV. This isn’t a subscription you renew. I know you don’t have a lot to go by in your political life, but things like this don’t automatically happen every four years.”

“I think it’s a bad idea, Josh. I can’t…I can’t face everyone right now.”

He took a deep breath. “Donna you worked hard for this,” he offered, hoping to make some sort of a truce. 

She’d screwed up – big time – but they would figure it out; they always did. There was damage control – hell, they had entire departments for stuff like this. And it was Donna.

They’d figure it out.

“…I know. I know, but I messed up and I don’t deserve to be there, celebrating with everyone.”

He heard the shame in her voice and suddenly lost any desire to go to any of the balls tonight – no matter the cheese trays or chocolate fountains, it would be tainted. “That’s not true.”

“It _is_ true, Josh. It’s how I feel and it’s how it’s going to be.”

He was quiet, his mind working quickly as it could over possible scenarios and how maybe he could talk to CJ about it, but the president would already know – there was no shielding her. It made him sick.

“I don’t know how to fix this.”

“It’s not your problem to fix.”

“Not my _problem_? Donna, not my _problem_? Of _course_ this is my problem.”

“Josh, I know you’re prone to volatile mood swings, but this is a little too much for me right now.”

He knew he was taking out the stress of the day on her, but had the sudden thought that that was appropriate, given that she’d caused a lot of it. “No kiddin’ – I’m gonna need to see Stanley Keyworth before the week’s up.”

“Okay, now you’re being dramatic.”

“ _Me_? You’re the one with the drama degree – oh, wait, I’m overstating that, aren’t I?” he finished with a grin she couldn’t see.

“Good-bye, Josh.”

“You should be here,” he said resolutely, a last-ditch effort.

“I know. Have fun.”

She hung up the phone before he could say good-bye and it was just him in an empty office. It was quiet and, maybe it was his imagination, but he swore he could hear a brass band belting out their triumph of the day. 

He looked at the bow tie and its perfect creases and snaps and mumbled, “I won’t.”


End file.
